


masters of the hunt

by octoberswan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hunting, M/M, Middle Earth, Sex in the woods, bad sexual innuendo referencing spears, first age of middle earth, sorry tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberswan/pseuds/octoberswan
Summary: Celegorm and Oromë hunt the fell creatures of Melkor, wild and terrible in the silent forests of Beleriand.





	masters of the hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Ahah I'm so sorry. Idk what this turned into... but here we are. I would like to formally apologize to Tolkien and also I own nothing and no one, so please enjoy.

The hunt was wild. It was a rush of trees and dark earth and the throaty baying of the hounds, the starlit air cold and biting as they ran. 

It was breathless, and the sight of Oromë grinning with all his teeth and his spear clenched in his hand ran hot through Celegorm’s blood. Thin branches whipped past his face and his feet pounded against the earth, the dull throb of his heart loud in his ears. 

The tails of the dogs as they ran ahead could barely be seen in the twilight gloom, and the vast expanse of the forest spread out around the hunters, silent and watchful. 

Celegorm panted as he searched fruitlessly for the boar they were chasing, growing frustrated when even his elf eyes could not find it among the dim trees. Oromë slowed ahead of him, long dark hair lifting in the wind as he turned back to his companion. 

“Do not fear, young Celegorm. We will find our prey.” He grinned, teeth vicious and eyes alight with the hunt.

Celegorm flushed and nodded, his eyes dropping to Oromë’s white knuckled grip on the shaft of his spear. 

“The longer the chase, the more rewarding the capture,” Celegorm said, eyes rising to meet the Valar’s. 

Oromë nodded and met Celegorm’s stare. “That is so. Come, let us take up our hunt once again.” 

Celegorm breathed deep and adjusted his grip on his own spear, and began to run. 

...

The blood was hot as it ran down from the head of his spear to stain his fingers, the body of the boar laid at his feet. He shuddered at the memory of it’s red eyes, driven mad with rage and hate. A twisted creature of darkness, one of the many fell spawn of Morgoth’s evil. Oromë’s breath was hot on the back of his neck as he came up behind Celegorm, his body warm and close. 

“A fine kill. Well done.” Oromë’s voice is low in Celegorm’s ear, and a small shiver runs through Celegorm. 

“Will this foul creature be the only prey speared tonight, my lord?” Celegorm asks, twisting to look up at Oromë. He feels heady and wild, the kill still singing through his body. 

Oromë looks at him for a long moment, then slides a hand around Celegorm’s stomach and twists him around so their bodies are flush. 

“No, it will not.” Oromë’s mouth is burning, and Celegorm has no resistance against it. He feels drunk, pressing closer to Oromë and grinding his hips forward. 

The tree is hard against Celegorm’s back as Oromë twists them swiftly around, devouring Celegorm’s mouth with a filthy kiss. A moan escapes him as he clutches tighter to Oromë’s shoulders, helpless against the hunter’s onslaught. 

Celegorm is on fire, and Oromë’s hardness is insistent against his hip, and he throws his head back and gasps to the stars. Oromë’s fingers are rough and impatient, and Celegorm is incoherent with the stretch and the pleasure of it. 

He leans forward and bites at the hunter’s neck, running his tongue up the side and mouthing at his jaw. Oromë growls and adds a second finger, punching the breath out of Celegorm. 

It is several breathless minutes later when the Valar lifts him up and slides home, Celegorm’s legs wrapped around his waist. The silent trees swallow the elf’s cries as he shakes in Oromë’s grip, delirious with the sharp pleasure pounding into him. 

All too soon Celegorm is arching into the hunter’s chest, fingers digging into his shoulders as he comes with a moan. Oromë follows soon after, finding his release soundlessly as he stills inside the other’s body. 

The forest is silent as the two lean against each other, quiet in the aftermath. Oromë moves to retrieve his spear and gathers the elf in his arms, striding away towards Aman, intent on settling Celegorm into his bed in Valmar, where he will awake in the morning and they will make love again, slow and gentle in the light of the Trees.


End file.
